He had chosen the night train and it was not crowded. All the way to
Dover he had the compartment to himself, and there was no rush for the
boat. It was a night of stars and balmy airs; but after the start the
wind freshened, and Stephen walked briskly up and down the deck,
shivering slightly at first, till his blood warmed. By and by it grew so
cold that the deck emptied, save for half a dozen men with pipes that
glowed between turned-up coat collars, and one girl in a blue serge
dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched her frock.
Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men buttoned their coats or
went below, and she remained, his attention was attracted to the slim
figure leaning on the rail. Her face was turned away, looking over the
sea where the whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to
engulf them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in the
cup of her two hands; but her hair, under a blue sailor-hat held down
with a veil, hung low in a great looped-up plait, tied with a wide black
ribbon, so that Stephen, without wasting much thought upon her, guessed
that she must be very young. It was red hair, gleaming where the light
touched it, and the wind thrashed curly tendrils out from the thick
clump of the braid, tracing bright threads in intricate, lacy lines over
her shoulders, like the network of sunlight that plays on the surface of
water.
Stephen thought of that simile after he had passed the girl once or
twice, and thinking of it made him think of the girl herself.
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